To be a Thievius Raccoonus
by Theivius Authorius
Summary: Sly's been having troubling dreams lately; each more confusing and seemingly meaningless than the last. And, currently, more violent. What happens when one of these dreams leads him to a great ally? And to an even greater evil? What shall time have in store for the Cooper Gang? Sly and the gang, in... To be a Thievius Raccoonus. (Takes place before Thieves in Time)
1. Chapter 1: Memory Demons

Chapter 1: Memory Demons

"Ever see a scorpion sting itself to death, Sly?" Bentley was beaming behind his mahogany desk, I could just see his glasses peak out from behind the laptop monitor. The turtle seemed to be really enthusiastic about this assignment. He was researching the types of defense strategies different predators used to their advantage against prey, and the rare circumstances that turned those defenses against them. Some could call it a cruel study, but it was a necessary one for the job we were planning to pull off. At least, that's what Bentley kept trying to convince me of.

Only one event came to mind, I thought it would get a rise out of the turtle. "Well, there _was _that time in Ayer's-"

"And NOT the one in the outback, we promised never of speak of that again." his voice was firm.

I paused for a moment, glaring at him. He had a slight smirk on his face but his eyebrows were furrowed. I sighed dramatically. "Fine. Then no, Wizard, I haven't seen a scorpion sting itself." I shifted positions in my chair, crossing my legs to try and relax. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, do you remember that job in India?"

I had a 'Seriously Bentley?' look on my face. "We've had lots of jobs in India, Bentley. Can you be any more specific?"

"About ten years ago?"

I thought to myself for a minute, digging in my memory to find the event. It took me a while, but eventually it all came back to me. "The Firestone job, that was one of our best heists… and the first time I actually spoke with Carmelita."

"Ah, memories…"

We both sighed heavily, remembering the past events of the heist.

"You know, we really should eventually try to sell that stone. I mean, it looks good on the fireplace mantle, but it's kind of cumbersome to keep with us for every heist."

Bentley shook himself out of his memory-driven euphoria. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll try to get on Thief Net one of these days. Anyway, while you were out trying to steal the thing, Murray and I were trying to collect specimens of the local flora and fauna."

"Why were you doing that, if I could ask?"

Bentley shrugged, and started typing on his computer. "I was interested in the Indian wildlife at the time, Murray ran out of his backup supply of Pringles, and we went from there. Anyway, in our search for specimens, we found a duo of Indian Black Scorpions dueling over a dead wild dog carcass. We were lucky that Murray brought his new video camera along with him, otherwise we'd never have been able to get this on film." He pulled a drawer and picked out a thin remote control through the neatly organized devices. He clicked a blue button, and a thin projector screen popped down from the ceiling. I prepared myself for one of Bentley's infamous slideshows, but instead I saw a mediocre made video. I assumed it was from Murray's camera. I could say one thing, I was glad Murray didn't try to become the next Spielberg.

Terribly made or not, I could see clearly what Bentley was trying to show me. Two black scorpions were fighting, right near a body of some tailed animal. I could see one of the creatures had a grip on the other's tail with its pincers, pushing back on the others stinger into its own body. I could see the poison starting to react with it, making it wither and lose consciousness. Instinctively, I shivered at the sight of their battle. Not many people knew this, but I was deathly afraid of scorpions, arachnids, and the like. Really, I haven't told anyone of this fear but Bentley. It was in Prague, when he found out. He would have tried to console me, or make some rash remark about the fear. My mind went back to the brief conversation we had on the subject.

_"Really? Insects? Why be afraid of insects? They're one of, if not the greatest and most important part of the earth's ecosystem! If anything, they should be revered! Well, minus of course, the Contessa, but she's the exception to the rule." _

_ I didn't pay much attention to his ramblings; I was very uncomfortable with the topic we were on. Bentley could easily see my emotion on the subject, but for whatever reason, he kept at it. I guess it was because he was trying to break my fear of the creatures. _

_"Bentley, I respect your feelings on the matter, but please. I'm uncomfortable and shaky from our current situation as it is."_

_"Oh, come on Sly! Wait…" He stepped out of his chair, opened the window, and outstretched his arm to the right side of the window. He pulled out a palm-sized fur ball. I, with my natural curiosity, peered to see what the item was. As I got closer, I saw the thing unfurl from its orb shape to outstretch eight jittery arms and four pairs of eyes. _

_I yelled out in fright, and scrambled to the top of the table we were on. I snatched my cane from my pack, and climbed up a small pillar that held up the roof of our makeshift hideout. "BENTLEY! Get that thing out of this room, NOW!" I was wide eyed in fear; my reaction seemed to startle Bentley quite a bit. He quickly slid up the window again, and flung it out into the humid Prague air. My heart still beat wildly, but I slowly slid back down the pillar, once I saw the creature shot out the window._

_"… Well. I'll admit it. I didn't exactly expect the fearless thief to be so frightened of spiders." _

_I sighed slowly. I couldn't believe it either sometimes. Believe it or not, that was one of the few rational fears I had. After a long and uncomfortable silence Bentley asked me how I had come to obtain this phobia. I sat silently for a while, with my own thoughts. I questioned if I should have told him, if he would have accepted it. Quickly I came to my senses, he was my best friend. I could trust him with anything. _

_"I was eight… well, technically seven and 364 days old… My parents and I had just planned a special trip to the museum of Natural History…" I chuckled sadly. "Somehow they got me into a miniature tuxedo before the night was over. I could remember how uncomfortable the suit made my tail, which added to my intolerable mood. I was impatient, excitable. A pretty normal thing for a kid on the day before their birthday. Sometimes I think to myself, when I can't sleep, what would have happened if I hadn't begged to go home, if I had been a better kid… Either way, my parents knuckled under from my constant whining, and I was brought home. _

_It was 9:48. The moon was hanging low in the sky. My parents were curled up on the couch, me on my father's lap, watching a nature documentary on National Geographic. We were so content, a true example of a family. Then an out-of-place sound came to our ears. Ring, ring ring… the doorbell sounded more menacing than I could remember at the time, but I pushed it out of my mind." I could see Bentley with an empathetic look on his face. I started to choke up a bit. "My father set me on the ground gently, and went to the keyhole to find who it was… he shut it as quick as he opened it. My mother hid some of the more valuable artifacts of their thieving lives, a golden statuette, a jade figurine, and a couple other mismatched items. Then my father rushed me to the closet, shoving the Cane in there with me. He locked away the Thievius Raccoonus up in our vault behind the family painting. He slid open the loose lock we had on the door, normally we didn't worry about prowlers or burglars… we didn't worry." _

_A tear started to fall down my cheek. I turned away from the turtle, stepping out in front of the hideout window. I stood silent again, trying to regain my composure and continue with my recollection of the facts. I could just feel Bentley's gaze boring through me, his sadness radiating to me. _

_I took a deep breath, and continued. "The door slammed open. I could hear deep thunks, cracklings of lightning and burning fire… the worst was the laughter. The laughter was sickening, appalling to hear. I placed it as Mugshot rambling of their success. These words were the only things I remember anyone in the Five saying that night…_

_Mugshot was still bellowing, 'Looks like the spider hag was right! Guess that means I won't have to bash her skull in.' he sounded a bit disappointed in saying this. Then I heard… then I heard a warbling voice outside of the closet. It sounded calm, but I could feel hate in his voice. _

_'Yes, it seems as though our deal will have to go with the Countess. I wish he didn't have to die this way. It's much more than he deserves, associating with the… Coopers.' He said that word with a certain air of malice._

_Another voice, with a thick British accent came out of the burning silence. 'Does this mean I have to return her _Hyp-nautical _plans, Clockwerk?'_

_An icy cold chill ran up my back. I had seen that name in parts of the Thievius Raccoonus many times. Whenever I found a description of him, I told my father that the bird scared me. He said I had a right to be afraid, but he never continued with an explanation. I could hear creaking, almost mechanical. I always imagined this was the owl smiling. 'No, keep it. She will have enough success at her… ahem, 'newly acquired' estate. You may use the plans to your own will, Raleigh. But now for business.'_

_Now a deeper voice came to my ears. I found later that it was the Panda King. 'Yes, these Coopers will draw too much attention if left here. I shall set the charges around the home. It shall be a pile of ashes before daybreak.'_

_ I must have blocked out their… their-" I couldn't say that word. I could think of dozens of others to describe it; unholy, evil, terrible, Murder, chaos, destruction, but I couldn't get the word out. "-what they did. I don't remember seeing them do it. All I hear is Clockwerk's menacing laugh. That laugh…" I couldn't go on for a little longer. I stood silent for who knows how long, looking out that window._

_ "And then they took the book." My face was marked with a few more teardrops. I turned back to my friend. "Two weeks ago, before you came, I had a new reason to fear. That was when I finally found out about the Contessa. Eventually, with my time in solitude she threw me a file folder of hers. It looked near ancient, being kept together by tape and glue. I could read the word 'Cooper on the file though. After reading it, I put together the final pieces of the puzzle. That the Contessa was the reason why my parents died. I was in my own personal hell just living in the same _country_ as her, much less the same complex." I wiped my tears away with the cuff of my sleeve. "And she was playing with me again. She's toying with my emotions, with my life, trying to destroy it piece by piece." _

_'And now one of my best friends is trapped with that maniac.' _

"SLY!"

I was awoken quickly by Bentley's shout. I must have drifted off during the video, I soon found that Murray made his way to the chair near me. He looked pretty excited, seeing that we found one of his older movies.

"Well, like I was trying to say before, this is an extremely good example of a technique we could start to try and learn. Yes, we've been putting the environment's defenses against out foes in the past, which is a good step in the right direction for thieves. But with your return to our company Sly, we might want to start working on some new defenses. Now, I've uploaded the moves and positions that each of us could best attempt to do into each of our binnocucoms, all we've got to do now it train with them. Now let's get to it!" The screen slid back up quickly. Murray whooped in excitement, ran out to the garage. Bentley wheeled his way over to me. "You okay, Sly? You're spacing out a lot more nowadays."

I frowned slightly, I was confused myself on why my memories were visiting me so frequently. I shrugged nonchalantly, as usual, trying to hide my emotions. "Not sure. Don't worry, it's probably just a weird raccoon thing, or something. Head out to the van, I'll catch up with you guys in there in a couple of minutes."

He looked skeptically at me. "Well, if you're sure." Bentley didn't sound certain, but he looked like he trusted me to deal with my problem on my own. He started to pump his arms quickly to the garage. "Wait for me, Murray!"

I smiled slightly. I slowly rose from the wooden chair, and walked through the walkways of our hideout to grab my cane and backpack. My mind was still up in the clouds, but I could keep my body going here on the ground. I had to; we had a job to prepare for! I couldn't let the past catch up with me again, it had done that enough times in my life. Now the only thing important was the future, to prepare for the future. At least, so I had thought. But either way, the Cooper Gang was on its greatest adventure yet, one that could change the very fabric of reality, and the history of our world. It could even destroy the gang, if we weren't careful…

As I walked through the garage doorway, my head felt like it had split open. I was in searing pain, falling to my knees. Suddenly my mind raced, showing different images and memories of my past. I could hardly understand most of them. Then my vision stopped on on one particular picture. I was in the middle of some city, by the looks of it it was ancient. I walked along for a few seconds, then saw an ominous shadow rise above me. I turned around slowly to see my greatest fear realized. A silvery black bird outstretched its wings, its talons were clicked open, making a charp ping in the near silence. Then I heard its piercing cry, my ears felt like they were bleeding, compounding the pain in my head. Then, as quickly as the pain and vision came, they both left. I was lightheaded. I found I was still on my knees, barely being able to keep my head up. Quickly I lost the ability to keep my head aloft, and I fell to the hardwood floor of the hideout. I slipped in and out of conciousness, eventually sucumbing to the pull of unconciousness.

Sometimes I really, _really_ hate Monday mornings.


	2. Chapter 2: Wings of Malice

**Well, this chapter was a bit rushed (and short), but so was the end of the first. I had to try and get this down before I forgot it. A massive thank you to _Emile The Watcher_ for helping me work some of the bugs out of this. We take you now to the fiery pits of… Mount Krak-Karov…**

**Russia. 11:54 PM**

The fiery mountain was in a heated frenzy this night. It's golden flares shot out through the stars, the glow made the shining orbs fade away in the blackness. This was an odd occurance for this particular volcano. Most days, it just oozed peacefully into the crisp Russian waters, slowly but surely becoming new land masses in the Krakoua River Basin below it. Today, though, today it belched the flowing fire from its fuming maw like an ancient fountain, finally reawakened from its eternal slumber. The near villages had long since evacuated from the valley opposite the basin, fearing for their lives. Though the retreaters didn't go in volumes, much of the local population had been either scarred away or destroyed by the menace, Clockwerk, and his previous attempts inside the natural furnace. Long had the death tower been destroyed, and its previous occupant been 'evicted', but the mountain still held a powerful grip of fear over the land. Most just disregarded the idea of its terror, finding it just an urban myth. And such a laughable one, if you think about it: A gigantic mechanical bird, living for thousands of years, finally taking his vengeance on the world? It was made into a joke on Facebook at the time, as the Mayan doomsday prophecy had just a few months before today. This was the most ideal situation. If everything went to plan, they never would know the truth.

Some say that the worst part of any volcano, especially Krak-Karov, was the molten rock that came from it. Second of course was the immediate fear of the mountain exploding, destroying all in its path with its lava. The lava. It may have been the most feared item of the volcano, and the most dangerous to create, but the illusion had done its job. The most popular of news channels, social networking sites, and any other transference of information had billowed the smoke of the volcano's awakening so much, near everyone in the world believed it would soon overrun the Russian countryside with its magmatic product. The Good Morning America show had even sent out Robin Wingtip to investigate the strange occurance. With so much publicity, it gave him the perfect cover to act.

_'Ignorant fools'_. The bird had thought that last word with extra malice. His neck was arched, the bird's body was stuck in an eternal position of extreme uncomfort, which fueled the fire in his heart. He moved slowly, even in the device he traveled in he could feel extreme pain with the slightest of movements. He moved toward the large deck windows of his private office, looking out at his magnificent operation. This had been the greatest plan of his life. But was it enough? He cursed to himself at the idea of his life. So short, so lacking in ability to act on his desires. _'I shall remedy that soon enough.'_

His gaze rose to the top of the crater; a five-foot thick pattern of visual projection glass had concealed any of his disciples' actions underneath it all. And Xao Chan, well, he with his beautiful illusions and Mind Shufflers had sealed the deal. And what an amazing deal it was! I mean, who in their right minds would venture near a live volcano? And what Interpol agent would dare question the near-impossible possibility that life could be sustained within the volcanic monument? Certainly that charlatan Miss Fox would leave the area alone, she had almost a greater fear of death-by-fire than Dimitri had a love for alcoholic beverages. Dimitri… one of the few remaining members of his grand organization still with a tie to criminal acts.

A hissing sound came from him, taking his thoughts from him; it had been the miniscule iron lung his physicians had provided him with. He tamed the constant anger he had whenever those bellows unfurled; tamed, being the operative word. You can tame the fury of a great lion, for example, but sooner than later, you will be met with the claws in you sleep. The doctors had slung that cumbersome device to his body nearly six years ago. Those idiots at the Harvard Medical College were lucky that he had come into their E.R. in so terrible of a state, else their entrails would have littered the grounds of the hospital. _'They were lucky they came out of that room with all of their fingers.' _

The bird glared down at the near uncountable supply of disciples below him. At least five thousand men from every corner of the globe… Belgium, England, Greenland, America, Brazil, Zimbabwe, Africa, Australia, and infinitely more. They worked feverously in the crater, their work was illuminated by the magma's glow. The bird's head engineer in command, Nicholi, had made excelent work with utilizing the natural light source. It saved them millions in electric bills, that lava; one ton of the material had enough potential energy within it to power all of Russia, _and _most of England!

It gave him hope for his impending victory. Yes, his first plan had failed. Miserably, in fact. But now… now he commended himself to have created a secondary plan of attack.

The machines hummed and whirred softly below him. The thick pannel of glass used for his office window subdued most of the soundwaves from the underground workplace. Sparks flew from black metal saw blades, slicing thru their iron and steel opponents like warm knives through butter. The avian smiled to himself. _'Soon the world shall know the name of Klaww's Vengeance. I shall be written… no. I shall_ become _history.' _ He could see from his mechanical pupils the vigor in his workers, all working for the common goal… For the privilege, the god given _right_, to accept the grandest treasure of all time.

_'Immortality.'_

_'My father could have never done such feats, such grand endeavors I have done would have been as far as Pluto from his grasp… soon, I shall become greater. I shall become God-like! No, I shall _become _god! And my pupils so become my angels, my patron saints. The spice becomes the fruit of the gods. I failed once...Not this time.' _ The small bird automata chuckled to himself. His vocal cords warbled from the mechanical organs implanted within him.

"_Capitan? _ The Blimp has been radioed to arrive in fifteen minutes, as has your mobility receptacle." The voice had a thick French accent. His voice had a military air to it, but it was so high pitched of a voice that all authority from the military was erased.

The warbled voice could not mask the English accent he had. "Splendid! Thank you Brutus, I shall make my way to the landing dock momentarily."

As his mobile bird perch rolled to the oak doorway, he smiled to himself. He could see the large, calligraphy-styled **A **on the inner wall of his private elevator. "Soon, such a symbol shall be written in the history books. All children of the world shall pledging to my grand rule, to the grip I shall have on every person's lives. And no one will be able to stop me."


	3. Chapter 3: Map to Somewhere

**_Well, it took longer than I thought, but here it is! You all know the drill, like it, hate it, got a request, put it in the reviews. I hope you like it!_**

_I __was sitting... somewhere. Even in my startled state, I could tell that I wasn't in the ancient city anymore. For one, the moon didn't shine down to me from the open sky, I could only see the bottom clip of it from a glass window beside me. I sat in a comfortable fabric-lined seat, with oak arm rests and legs. Around me was a calming enviroment. The walls of the room were painted a warm green, with an oak trimming on the bottom edge. There was an old grandfather clock to my far right, near the front door. A beautiful painting hung on the other side of the door, I couldn't tell who the artist was, though; Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rafael... heck, it could be Picasso. It didn't matter at the moment. _

_Anyway, the only source of light besides the moon was a crackling fireplace in the center of the room. It was surrounded by brickwork, and a marble mantel. A couple of family photos were set on the mantel, possibly, but in the limited light I couldn't tell for sure. For all accounts, the people in the photos seemed happy. I could see the love between the two parents and their young son. The boy, the scene, even the room itself... it felt familiar. Almost like I'd been there for my entire life, but not actually... living there. It was a complicated feeling. _

_There were some other noticeable facts in the room; a red Persian Rug (the_ not _cheap kind), an entryway that led into some kitchen or dining room, and an antique radio sitting on a hand-made desk.__ Soon after, I noticed that there was a second chair in the room. It was a black leather recliner, looking even more comfortable than the chair I had somehow made my way into. Even sooner did I find that the chair had an occupant. He smiled when he was finally noticed, his teeth gleamed slightly in the firelight. I couldn't see his face, though, which irked me. _

_"I'm glad you finally woke up, boy." He thought about that for a moment. "Well, not _really _woke up, but you understand what I mean..." He saw my confused look. "Or maybe you don't... ah well. You'll understand soon enough." _

_I would have said something else, but I curbed my curiosity. "Well, pleased to make your company... whoever you are." _

_"The pleasure's all mine, Sylvester." He laughed lightly when he saw my reaction. "Yes, I know who you are. I know much more about you than you think. And so do others." His grin faded quickly, realizing we were talking about something serious. I wished I knew what. _

_The man leaned in closely, but not so close that I could see any more of him. "Listen to me carefully, boy. You've been through more than a hundred men of your age combined should have to deal with; The Cooper Vault, Bentley's injury, Clockwerk..." He paused, contemplating his next choice of words carefully. "... Your family..." _

_I was about to object, to question why and how he knew so much about me, but he held up his hand in protest. "No time, Sly. I wish there was, but there isn't." He sped up in his explanation. "Either way, you need to prepare. There's so much I'd want to teach you, that you need to know about the past, and the present, but that'll have to wait for later. All you need to know is this; The Cane will guide the way from you." He put his hands on my shoulders, shaking me a bit. I could barely see his chin, with a small goatee. "The Cane will guide the way. Across the Atlantic, you'll find it. 10 degrees." He fished a small rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket, placed it in my paw, and clenched it. "Good luck, my boy!" _

_I was just about to ask what all his gibberish meant, but things were starting to swirl out of my vision again. I could hear him shout to me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. It could have been 'Find him', or something along those lines. I could feel my hold on reality slipping again. I felt torn. For some reason, I didn't _want _to leave, I felt safe in that room, if a bit awkward near the mystery man. But any chance of asking him went down the tubes when I blacked out. He was gone._

* * *

And then I woke up. I could only now feel the pain in my head from making contact with the ground. I groaned, getting myself to kneel on one knee for support. As my head pounded, I tried to grasp at what had jut happened to me. I could see a wall clock far in front of me, reading 8:30. Only a minute or two past when I fainted. As I tried to push myself up, something fell from my hand. I picked it up quickly, finding that it was the slip of paper that the man had given me.

I took a quick look around me, seeing if Bentley or Murray were around. I sighed when I didn't see them anywhere. I hadn't told either of them that I was having these dreams, Bentley was the first to find out about it a couple of minutes ago. I just got a good look at the paper, surprised to find that it was a small map of the world. And in the corner of the map was the Cooper Family Crest, two Canes crossing each other.

Now, you'd think that I'd be used to getting shocked and amazed by things like this. I mean, we've dealt with undead uprisings, fire-breathing dragons made out of stone, and mutant beasts created by a scientific maniac... and I get freaked out by a little piece of paper I got from a guy in a dream? Either way, I was surprised to say the least to find the map in my hands. And I didn't know anything on why this guy gave it to me, or who he even was!

Suddenly, I got an idea. I staggered a bit to Bentley's laptop, and the printer/scanner on his desk. _'Wish I had paid attention when he told me how to use this thing...' _Seeing that nobody else was in the hideout right now, I put the small map on the scanner pad, waiting for it to transfer to the computer.

I fiddled through his desk, trying to find the same remote Bentley used before to bring the screen down. When I found it, I pressed one of the buttons, covering my ears when it barred the small stereo Bentley had beside him. I quickly pressed the same button, sighing as the device turned off. At a guess, I pushed the blue button on the remote, which pulled the screen down from the ceiling. I watched as a projector came from the same ceiling, projecting the map to the screen. I stood in front of the map, contemplating what the man was trying to tell me.

_'The cane will guide the way... Well, there are two canes in the bottom, but those don't really work... If I follow to where they point... no, they just go into open ocean. Oh! Maybe he meant Kaine Island... no, that doesn't make any sense, where from Kaine island? And what?' _I growled a bit, becoming frustrated. I pulled up a chair, stuck on what he meant.

"What'cha doing, Sly?"

My ears pricked up when I heard Murray's voice, but I still had my eyes on the screen. "Hey Murray. Just working on something."

"On what? Can I help?" His nature to please came out, and I smiled lightly.

"Well, I..." I tried to find a good excuse for where I got the map. "... I found this a couple days ago, in D.C." _'Perfect.' _"And I was wondering what it means. The person I got it from said to 'Follow the Cane', or something like that."

"What does _that _mean?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I wish I knew."

Then, like being hit with a ton of bricks, It came to me. I quickly stepped over to the couch, my strength came back to me a while ago, and pulled my cane from behind. I was talking to myself, trying to put it all together. "The Cane will guide the way from you... Why say it like that? "From" you, he should have said "for" you. And he wouldn't have said it like that, if it didn't mean something."

Murray looked at me skeptically, probably worrying for my sanity, but I kept working. I put the wooden end of my cane on our current location, Paris, France. I spun it on its axis around the map, the curved point of the cane didn't find anything worth of interest. Past Asia, Antarctica, Australia, nothing. Then I remembered the Degrees he was talking about. The cane swooped over to the Americas. I stopped and grinned when I saw that the point finally made its mark on one particular area of the states... New York. New York City, to be exact.

I laughed a bit, running to the big guy. "Murray, do you know where Bentley is?"

He was a bit surprised by my excitement, and looked at me awkwardly. "Yeah, he's out in the garage. Why?"

My grin became larger. "Warm up the van Murray, we're going to America!"

I ran out to the garage to tell Bentley of what I had planned. As I ran out, I heard Murray shout out, confused. "But we just got_ back_ from D.C.!"


	4. Chapter 4: Meanwhile

**Edits left and right, me ACTUALLY having some time to work on this... it's madness, I tell you! This was written a bit fast in my opinion, but here's Chapter Four. You know what to do people, review if you can!**

**New York- 9:37**

_As I walked in, the band had just started to play Moondance, one of my more favored Van Morrison tunes. I only realized a second later that it was Michael Buble's version, with all of the big brass instruments, which saddened me a bit. But I was a bit less sad, and much more surprised, when I found that both Michael and Van were singing a duet! Didn't expect that one. I would have questioned why they were onstage, instead of some impersonator, but then I remembered where I was right now; The Moonlight Hotel, one of New York's most exclusive places for the rich and famous. I could see at least 200 people clad in suits and ball gowns, tapping their feet and snapping their fingers to the beat. My natural skill for noticing little details came out with each person, seeing the golden necklaces and diamond watches these people had brought with them. My ears twitched a bit, I had to contain myself; one false move tonight and I could expect a ride in an Interpol car._

_I gave my hat and coat to the man near the revolving door, who hung it with all of the other coats. I finally realized that my breath was shallow. Let's see... what the definition of 'nervous' again? 'Having a feeling of dread or apprehension'? More like' Scarred senseless, worrying that your entire life's work could end in less than a second on this very night?' Somebody get Webster on the phone, quick!_

_Sorry, I'm getting off-track. Anyway, this is an important night for me. I've never really been in such a big crowd of people, or in a place with this much security. Wall cameras, keypad-opened doors, Bouncers at nearly every door (even the bathrooms?!)... I sighed heavily as I surveyed the place. 'Ah well. Might as well try to relax while I can.' _

_I walked up with a confident smile on my face, and sat down in a red leather booth facing the stage. I tapped my foot along the the music, finally loosening up a bit. I relaxed my shoulders, and leaned back slightly as I sipped the glass at my table. And then I frowned. 'Either champagne tastes like spicy curry, or the invitation was lying.' _

_Nearly immediately, I felt... different. My vision blurred, and my heartbeat sped up like a bullet. Suddenly my head pounded, and for some reason, I felt angry. Felt rage. Something I'm not exactly used to. But then... then it just faded away. The rush of emotions and pain and only lasted a couple of seconds, but I was gasping for breath. A lizard of some kind in a white suit hushed me from a couple tables over, flicking his forked tongue at me, which I was a bit perturbed about. I mean, I'm having a heart attack here, and he tells _me_ to shut up? For a second I wished I brought my cane along with me, wanting to give him a reason to be quiet, but I came back to my senses quickly. Just as Moondance was ending, and as the duo was taking their bow, I tried to understand what the heck just happened to me. A sip of 'champagne' makes me go all Bruce Banner? This was becoming a weirder night than I had wanted. _

_Before I could think about it any longer, another oddity caught my eye; of course, I didn't mind seeing this vision of loveliness come through those golden doors. She looked so beautiful, so entrancing, out of her Inspector uniform. Her hair was let down, out of it's normal restricted shape, and flowed down from just above her eyes. She brushed a lock of the golden material from her face. She smiled at the doorman, revealing perfect teeth, and gave him a small tip of a few Coins. As she walked down the steps from the entrance, her pure-white dress flowed with her, making her even more beautiful than I could imagine. I caught myself from staring just as she sat down in a booth about six, maybe seven tables away from me. _

_Oddly enough, when she took a drink from the glass, she didn't look any worse for the wear; pupils didn't dilate, no anger, nothing! Even with that fact, I decided NOT to drink or eat anything while I was here, just to be on the safe side. _

_I decided to make my exit (which might have looked a bit suspicious, but I didn't care) to relieve my headache by climbing a set of stairs to the balcony. The stars looked so beautiful tonight... it was a rare time when you could see many stars above New York, it was a pleasant surprise to see that the lights of Manhattan had finally shut off for the night. The song was right, they are like little diamonds. Well, giant gas-filled diamonds, but still. As I looked out, I wondered about what brought me here; this wasn't a normal job. It was my greatest job, if my simplest. Finally, I'd find out about who my parents really were, if I'd live up to their reputation. I'd be able to see why I was given that cane, what it meant to my parents. And I'd finally know who killed them 10 years ago. _

_I heard a line of trumpets blare, which startled me. Almost immediately I recognized the band's next song as Smooth Criminal. A befitting tune, for the time at hand. Maybe even a sign. 'No time, like the present, right?' I looked around, glad to see that the balcony had perfect access to the room I was heading for. And even better, everyone was transfixed with the band's music (and the Michael Jackson impersonator's moves) that they wouldn't pay attention to me if I fired a flare out into the ballroom. Perfect. _

_I climbed onto the ledge of the balcony, swung my arms, and leapt to a protruding flag staff. I had hoped to land on it perfectly, like I had been practicing... but I didn't. My feet slipped, I exclaimed, trying to catch my balance. I probably would have become a road pancake if I hadn't grabbed onto the gold-painted bar in time. _

_As I hung there, I cursed myself for not bringing my cane. I swung hard, trying to flip myself up to the balcony. After just missing the balcony for the hundredth time, I finally got in reach of the balcony ledge, grabbed for it, and pulled myself up. After exhaling, I brushed off some of the dust and soot that collected on my suit when it brushed up against the bar, and positioned myself in front of the glass door. When I found that it was locked, I smiled a bit. I pulled out a jagged shaped tool from a secret pocket in my suit, undetectable by the bouncers out front, and started at the lock. Happily, it clicked within a few seconds of my work. _

_When I walked in, I was a bit surprised. Normally an Interpol agent didn't get enough of a salary to afford a Moonlight Hotel room itself, much less the contents inside. There were paintings of the old masters; Raphael, Michelangelo, and Da Vinci. The furniture looked at least like each piece costed $5,000, maybe even $10,000 a piece. The wallpaper wasn't exactly my style, but the pale and gold trimming of it made the room feel that much more elegant. _

_I stepped around the room, looking for traces of a safe, a key to a safe, anything that I could find to lead me to my police record. Yes, that's what I'm in an Interpol Agent's room for, a file. You'd think that I knew everything I wanted to know about myself, but apparently Interpol knew more. Lots more. Rumors said that I had one of the biggest files in their New York office, a fact that I was proud to know. On a hunch, I pulled at the only painting that wasn't a masterpiece; a photocopied doodle of a train set, labeled 'Jake, 9'. Jake was her nephew, I presumed, knowing that she herself didn't have any children. And I struck gold. The safe was right behind it, keypad and all. I grinned. _

_Now the only part left was to find the code. I was hoping that she had stayed old fashioned, with a dial lock, but I could do with keypads. I pulled a vial of clear liquid from my front pocket, dabbed a bit of it on my gloves, and wiped them on the keys. Before my eyes, I saw smudges, some smaller, some larger, appear on the keys. I pressed them in order from small smudges to largest, my grin growing when the device whirled open. And finally, after all these long months of searching, I had it in my hands. The key to my future. I smirked at the picture of me, with a wide grin on my face. In bold above the picture was my name, **Gregory Koupre**, right next to the 'TOP SECRET'. _

_And then all heck broke loose. _

_"FREEZE!" _

_I froze for a second, only for a second, and turned slowly to the sound of the voice. Wouldn't ya know it, it was Inspector Lionne, shock pistol and all. _

_I smiled at her, "Tell me, Sasha, how hard was it to hide that thing under your dress?" _

_She shrugged, "It was worth it to finally be able to catch you, Koupre. Now," she nodded with the pistol, "put down the file, and you'll walk out of here without 20,000 Volts coursing through you." _

_I smirked again. "Alright. But just out of curiosity, how was the drink?" _

_She lowered the pistol a few inches, "What are you talking about?" _

_"Well, one sip from that 'Champagne', and I was a mad as a rhino, and as confused as a cross-eyed archer. You?" _

_She looked puzzled. I could see the wheels in her head turning, trying to deduce if I was trying to fool her or not. When she just stood there, I decided to make my move._

_"Ah well. Au revoir, Madame!" _

_I put the file within my suit, under my arm, and sped to the balcony. Before she could do anything, I turned back quickly, grinned, and jumped off into the speeding traffic 50 feet below. _

_I could hear her scream, and run to the edge, only to see me unfurl the glider from my back, and ride the updraft to the next rooftop. The wind breezing through ym ears seemed to be the only thing that calmed me down this night, it finally got rid of my headache too. I landed on all fours, again brushing the dust and dirt from my knees. I turned back to her, seeing a blank and unbelieving girl looking back at me, and blew a kiss to her. In about the time it would take for the kiss to reach her (wait, how fast do kisses go?), I saw her shock pistol drop from her grasp. "Better luck next time, Lionne?" I smiled one last time, and bolted across the rooftop, jumping over the gaps between buildings, into the growing darkness and moonlight. I could hear her scream at the top of her lungs, "You can't escape me forever, Koupre! Your luck's bound to run out eventually!" _

_I called back to her, "I hope it will Inspector! Then maybe we can finally spend some time together, without the shock pistol as our chaperone."_

* * *

_When I got back to my apartment, I sighed happily. This had taken about a week to plan, even more to prepare the fingerprint solution, but it was all worth it. And the look on Sasha's face? PRICELESS. I wish I brought my camera!_

_The first page in my file I found had a large symbol on it; I didn't exactly recognize it, but it felt... familiar. The cursive written **A** stretched over the main part of the paper, which confused me. Was there a hidden message in the design of the **A**? I was too tired to figure out anyway, I got into some sleeping attire, and slumped into my mattress. As I lay in the bed, I gazed out the window to the full moon. For some reason, my mind flashed to a picture of a large bird, flying toward me. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, to make sure I was dreaming, and it disappeared. 'I must be more tired than I thought...' But I couldn't shake it, something felt... off... to me. Like my instincts kicked in, or something._


	5. Chapter 5: Mirror Thieves

**Sly has finally made his way to America (again), to seek out the mysterious individual from his vision. But what shall come of this meeting? We shall see…**

**NYC- 6:38**

**Cooper**

By breath shuddered as I crept along the thin edge of the skyscraper. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not really afraid of heights. Heights can be a thief's best friend, since you can be the only one that can get up there! But when there's 20 m/h wind, the constant blaring of Car alarms and horns, and the flashing lights from billboards and signs… it's not heights that make people afraid. It's the fear that you could very possibly go **_splat! _**on the pavement. Not the way that I'd like to end my career.

And to make matters worse, I wasn't exactly having the best of evenings. I didn't get a wink of sleep on the plane ride here. Unfortunately we didn't have the luck we had when we went to DC, being stuck in coach class. This 7-year-old kid just kept kicking the back of my seat, whining that I didn't become mad at him like most people, to his parents… Bentley and Murray had it even worse, the dunces at the airport kept running Bentley through the metal detectors. Bentley. You know, my friend with the _wheelchair_? Suffice to say, we're never going into any other section of an airplane besides First Class. Ever.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. **_Splat!_**.

I wiped my brow, sending a group of shimmering droplets down to the busy night-time streets. I was glad that nobody on these streets could see me, I had changed from my normal blue sneaking clothes into a darker, sleeker version. Perfect for going unnoticed, but not great on traction.

Finally, I got to my target, a large window with a small terrace. I was glad to be back on a section of floor that was thicker than five inches, and tried to clear my head of the worry from the climb here. I dug inside my pockets, finding the two devices that Bentley had given me before my ascension; a small, dark-gray item shaped like a tuning fork with adjustable prongs, and a disk-shaped glass cutter. I bored a hole large enough for my hand and the tuning fork to fit. When I pressed the button on the butt of the device, and heard it whir and click as it did its magic to unlock the old window. Interpol had decided to make their main New York headquarters in one of the older buildings of the city. When I first saw the shape of the building, I was reminded of the Triangle Shirtwaist Building, with its triangular form and brick-work foundation.

The window made a resounding click, and I smiled as I pulled up the window, letting myself in. put my hand to my ear-piece, "You're a genius, Bentley."

"Why thank you; I pride myself in ingenuity and originality… well, even if it was in a Muppet movie."

I decided to let that one slide.

As I made contact with the floor, I slipped my cane from the cloth holster I kept on my back. I didn't like the idea of having to get in a fight right now, my headache hadn't decided to go away just yet. But I would if I had to, like always. I just had to be careful not to bump into any Interpol agents on patrol here.

I crept my way down the hallways of the office, glancing left and right periodically for possible attackers. It looked like, just this once, I'd be able to sneak through somewhere without having to knock someone unconscious, or get noticed by a guard! And then I slammed into the back of a particularly angry-looking bloodhound, armed with both a Shock Pistol and a metal club. Brilliant.

**Koupre**

"Well, _this_ is a fine situation that you've gotten yourself into." I muttered to myself. I had made my way to the New York Branch of Interpol. Why, you ask? Well, after my last heist from one of the greatest Interpol agents of the big apple went so well, I thought 'Hey, why not do it again? Make people remember me!'

…No, that wasn't really the reason. Really, it was because my own file mentioned some eye-opening facts. I'd talk about them, but right now, I really don't have the time. Later, I promise. Anyway, my file mentioned a guy named 'Sly'. I didn't know if this was an alias, or his actual name, but the file regarded him pretty highly. Said he was a world-class thief, making most of his great heists across the Atlantic, in Paris. To be honest, I never heard of him; he was probably on the news a couple of times, but with my _extremely _busy schedule as of late, I hadn't the time to watch any T.V. The file, though, mentioned that he had done a job in New York one time… from what I could remember at the moment, it was something about an ancient music box from the Romanov's Amber Room, I think. It said that he somehow got his hands on it in NYC, and brought it back to Europe to sell for some serious coin.

And, of course, this meant that he had a file. And since this is the closest Interpol Office to my current location, I decided that this was the place to find out more about him. All I had to do was get my way into their office, grab the file, and sneak back out. Simple, right?

Not really.

Lucky duck that I was, I had somehow gotten myself stuck in the air vents of the building. Don't ask me how, but I think my cane caught with a broken part of the vent shaft, stalling me for enough time for the AC to turn on in the place. It was a tight squeeze to begin with, getting inside there, but when it cooled down, the vents contracted; leaving me in the position that I was in. I bent my head around my shoulder at an attempt to read my gold wristwatch; about 6:45.

I had about enough of this right now. There was a grate right below my stomach, I could feel the colder air drift toward it. As I shivered from the freeing air I did what I could to shift myself over to there, to try and peer inside. There didn't seem to be anyone inside the room below me, so I guess it couldn't hurt to get down there.

My own body heat was starting to free me, and I tried to bring my right arm in front of me. As it came out, I smiled. Then, with all I could muster, I smashed against the grate, sending it falling to the tile floor with a clank. I slunk my frame down through the opening, but immediately resented it, as I fell down face first onto the floor below. I heard my cane fall from its holster on my back, the golden crook of it clanged onto the tile.

"… Ow."

**Cooper:**

"Well, well, well… The _famous _Sly Cooper." The dog had a thick Brooklyn accent, as he taunted me while reaching for his club.

"Looks like my reputation precedes me." Wait… I recognized this guy! "Do I know you?"

He smirked. "I was part of Mugshot's gang, back in Mesa. And I'd like to get a refund on the winnings you made me lose, when that cop hag busted our poker game. I lost my Mercedes in that game, raccoon." As he raised his club, smacking it against his palm, I had a worried look. "You feeling lucky… _punk_?"

And that's when I got confused. "Really? You can bring those lieutenant stripes to an Inspector badge, and you fight me with lines from Dirty Harry?" And when he got angry. He growled, swinging the club high, aiming for the space between my eyes. I dodged to the left to feel the club's air trail right beside my ear, a bit too close for comfort. I used my cane to grab hold of his arm, hurling him into the plaster wall. He made a bit of an indentation, but I heard a deeper thud after the initial impact, making me guess that the brickwork hadn't been only on the outside. He stumbled slightly, but was conscious enough to reach for his shock pistol. I didn't want to become the human lightning rod today, so I gave him a right hook and knocked him out cold. As he impacted the ground, his eyes fluttered open for a couple of seconds. I smirked at him, and looked in his eyes. "Oh, and by the way, I _am _feeling lucky. Thanks for asking."

And then he groaned, and fell back into unconsciousness. I checked to see if he was breathing; even scum like him don't deserve to die on the job. How he got onto the Interpol force was beyond me, but the previous gang member was breathing. I took a long step over him, and continued my search. The person in that weird vision told me to 'find him', which is exactly what I set out to do on my trip to New York. The guys were kind enough to join me in the travel; I don't know if they believed me, or thought I was a wackadoodle, but they trusted me, and came along. Murray was stationed about 300 yards from the building entrance, disguised as a hobo napping on a park bench. The get-up kept enough people from inquiring who he was, and his obvious muscle kept anyone from wanting to get too close to him… I smiled at the thought of the thug I just beat up going against him, he'd be beaten to a pulp! Bentley was stationed in our makeshift hideout, a couple blocks away. I was a bit nervous that we had the safe house so far away from the job location, but he assured me that 'everything would go according to plan'. Sometimes I wished that he could be just a little bit less infuriating when he holds information from me.

Sorry, getting off track. Anyway, Bentley had an epiphany a couple of hours ago; what if this guy was a thief? I mean, I'm a thief, and I get told to find someone in a vision… aside from the creepiness, it's pretty straightforward. Bentley thought that we'd be able to find his file, if he had one, in the Interpol office. I would have just said find it in the NYPD office, but Bentley said that his guy might be better than the normal crooks; High class. I hoped so, our gang having some competition for a change would be nice!

**Koupre**

As I peeled myself off of the floor, I held my head up with one hand; thanks to my idiocy, I had a splitting headache. "This day is getting better and better."

I tried to shake it off, which in all accounts probably made it worse, and trudged on to find the file room. I found later that I possibly had a slight concussion, since I had trouble twisting the doorknob of the room I fell into, but it passed quickly. I think. My memory is still a bit foggy of those few minutes.

Anyway, I had made my way through the hallways of the building with no problem. Nearly every guard that was in there had their back turned to me, and the only one that _did _see me was so drunk from a party (Interpol knows how to party, believe me), that he thought I was his buddy John. Even gave me the 100 coins that he 'owed me'. Of course, I didn't object, but I slipped back 50 of them into his back pocket... What? I've got a soul, I know when things are wrong.

Finally, I came to a T-shaped complex of Hallways, at the end of which led to the bright red door of Interpol's archives. I grinned at the sight of it. Making a break for the door, I thought to myself about how easy this was; no guards I needed to knock out, no _real _injuries, and I would still get the file of this 'Sly' person. All in all, possibly my cleanest job ye-

_"FREEZE. And this time, Ringtail, I MEAN freeze." _

I slowed down to a walk, then to a dead stop. I knew that voice, so I didn't bother to turn around. I was mentally kicking myself, how could I forget the golden rule? 'When bad things can happen, they WILL happen.' I sighed heavily. I was only about fifteen feet from the red door, so close! I stared out into the empty space of the hallway in front of me, at the oak door that WOULD have been my escape route. But then, something interesting happened. I could hear Sasha coming closer to me, her handcuffs clinking against each other, when suddenly I heard coming footsteps. Loud ones, like somebody was running from someone. Then, much to my amazement, I saw a thin figure run out from the darkness, turning the corner, followed by yet ANOTHER gun-totting police officer.

"_Freeze, Cooper! You're not getting away thi-"_ The female fox stopped, as did the figure she was chasing. The duos, each of us, looked over to our counterpart; Sasha to this new cop, and Myself to this figure. I noticed something gleam in the raccoon's hand; a cane. I saw him look down to my right hand, his eyes widening as he saw the same sort of cane in my hands.

Sasha and I walked up to the other duo (she still had her shock pistol shoved into my back, of course), and so did the raccoon and his female pursuer. We stopped at the fork in the hallway, just in front of the red door and right in front of the other hallway. I could get a better look at this man now; He was about my height, maybe taller, wearing a blue set of clothes that were shockingly similar to my green set. Minus the hat that he wore, we could have been twins. Then the two police women nudged us with their pistols, and we were forced to go down the hallway from the door. All this work... for nothing. You could say I was a bit surprised.

"So... what're you in for?"

I smirked. "Jaywalking. They get you every time. You?"

"Forgot to pay my parking ticket." He muttered under his breath to me, "Do you see any possibly way where we can get out of here?"

"Any chance of sprouting wings and flying our ways out of here?"

He shrugged. I cursed under my breath, being more than I little peeved at the current situation we were in. Then I noticed something on the raccoon's back; from a quick glance, it looked like a make-shift glider.

I whispered to him, "How much can that glider lift?"

The man's eyes widened for a second, then he slowly smiled. "Enough." He motioned to the large window in front of us with his eyes, "You're count, on three."

I grinned at him. "Now you're speakin' my language."

Sasha drove her shock pistol into my back further, making me wince a bit in anxiety. I looked back at her, seeing that she kept glancing back from me to the other cop. I could tell that she didn't trust her exactly, but I didn't know why... maybe she'd met her in the past? No time to figure that out right now though.

"THREE!"

We both zoomed out ahead of the agents, which seemed to surprise them, as they didn't fire a single shot till we were about 3 yards away, at least. I coudl smell the ozone and feel the tingle of the electricity on my tail. "I sure hope this works!" I shouted.

We ran further and further, getting even nearer to the glass window. Five steps, three steps... **_Crash!_**

It almost seemed like time stood still there for a few moments. I looked back at the raccoon, who had a look of excitement on his face. Only afterwards did he tell me that I did too. Then he pulled a cord from his back, launching the paraglider from his pack. As we fell, I heard him yell to grab the cane, which he rached out to me. I held on to it, just as the paraglider caught the speeding winds, and brought us down to ground level.

* * *

When we finally landed, I was hoping to know the person that saved my hide back there, but he put his finger to his ear. "Bentley, get the van ready _now_. And make some room, we've got a guest."

Then he outstretched his hand to me, in a gesture of friendship. "Hey. The name's Sly Cooper. What's yours?"


	6. Chapter 6: Water Over the Bridge

_*Screech!*_

Before I could even be awed at the luck I had, coming straight into contact with the same person I needed to find, I saw a blue and black van barreling around the corner, nearly hitting a lamp-post head-on. It spun right to us, facing away from us. Suddenly the back doors swung open, and a gravely voice yelled "GET IN!" We did as it told us.

No sooner than Sly slammed the door did the car zoom onward. Just as we sped off, the Interpol Agents finally got to the entrance of their building, speeding toward us. Sasha and that other officer were the fastest, firing blast after blast of electric pulses at us. Every one of them missed by a hair except one from the fox detective, blasting a small indent into the area of the door my back was against. I yelped slightly, jumping closer to the center of the van.

The car turned sharp, clipping the lamp-post it had missed before. I saw it slowly crash to the asphalt; the light shattering on impact sent out tons of sparks, illuminating the growing darkness. The last thing I saw till the buildings took over my sight was Sasha throwing her pistol to the sidewalk, cussing fervently. _'She could never take short goodbyes.' _

"So! Where exactly was _he _in the plans, Sly?"

I looked up, seeing that a turtle in a wheelchair was speaking to Sly. He didn't look too happy, gesturing to me as he spoke.

Sly put up his hands defensively, "I know, I know Bentley. But he got us out of there, if I was alone up there, I would have thought of the paraglider option way too late."

He shook his head, about to talk when the van skidded again around another corner. Their arms flailed, grabbing quickly to find something to keep them stationary. I wasn't so lucky, my face smashing into a chrome computer system set into the van's frame. I was flung back to the other side as the van turned again, my back and head smacking into the metal walls.

"And nobody wanted to warn me about the maniac at the wheel?!" I yelled, annoyed by the bruises and headache I had.

"Thanks! 'Maniac' was one of my favorite nicknames they gave me at the Derby!" The hippo seemed to be in his element at the driver's seat. I gaped quizzically at Sly, who shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Everybody hold on, this is where things get rough!"

I clutched to the seat for dear life, "You mean things up till this were _easy_?!"

My question was answered when the hippo flicked the top off of a handle on the steering wheel, and pressed down on a red button. I struggled to keep a strong grip on the seat as the velocity changed from break-neck speeds to break-sound barrier. I heard among the screams of the people dodging our van (luckily none were injured) the distant whirring of a police vehicle.

"Looks like the welcoming committee's arrived! Murray, can you lose them?" Bentley yelled.

"I can lose anyone, you know that!"

"Where are we even going? If, you know, the guy who was kind of kidnapped can say something here."

They were silent.

I hit my face with my palm and groaned. "I'd suggest my apartment, but they'd see a giant blue van with a raccoon face painted on it pretty quickly. Anyone got an idea?"

The turtle shifted position in the chair, just as Murray took another turn. "Weeelll... there _is _one spot... but I don't think you're going to like it."

"Oh, how bad could it be?"

* * *

I won't go into detail about the sewers. I will say this, though; Bentley knew how to find a good hideaway, from what he told us, this sewer entrance wasn't on any of the system blueprints. Perfect spot, if you can get past the terrible smell.

And I won't go into detail on the discussion we had, either. This is the gist of it, though: I told Sly that I found his name mentioned in my police file, the reason why I had gone to the Interpol office. Then he told me about the wierd dream that the had (after which I thought him a bit crazy), and why _he _had gone to the Interpol office. Apparently, to find me. Funny how things work out that way, huh? Both of us tried to explain how we got our Canes, but we were cut short by the whooping of police cars.

"Guess we'll have to finish this conversation some other time, when we aren't America's Most Wanted."

"I'm with you. Any way we could make..." I gestured to the van outside, "_that_, any less conspicuous? People can kind of know a famous gang's van when their logo is right on the front grill."

"Yes, that may be a challenge... But I think we could come up with something." Bentley said hesitantly, as if expecting the answer he'd get. "Murray, how good are you with paint remover?"

He shook his head wildly, "NO. We are NOT taking the paint off of my baby."

Bentley was about to make an argument, but the hippo's gaze was stern, so he avoided it. He sighed, "Fine, I guess we'll have to improvise."

Murray looked like he had an idea, "Any broken roads being repaired?"

"Actually, yeah, a water main broke a couple of days ago; they're still patching it up."

"How far?"

"A couple blocks north from here... Why?" I saw a devilish grin slowly form on Murray's face. "... What are you thinking? What's he thinking?" I asked quickly to the turtle.

* * *

"AAAAHHHH!"

Clinging for dear life again, we sped out of the sewers like a rocket (litterally, since the van aparently had rocket boosters). I heard the crashes of tools and pylons against the car walls, would _anything _break this car? I guess not. As we weaved around the dangerous machinery and avoided the workers, I heard the all-too-familiar blaring of police sirens. And they were gettign close.

"Murray, do you know what you're doing?!" Bentley seemed to be even more terrified than I was, using robotic arms from his wheelchair to secure himself in place. Even that didn't seem to do a great job of keeping him stationary.

"Do I ever? Just enjoy the ride, boys!"

I couldn't tell if he meant if he knew what he was doing, or if he knew that he never did. God, I hoped that it was the first.

"They're getting closer, big guy! If you have a plan, this would be the time." Even Sly was getting anxious.

As we made one last turn, Murray's expression changed from determined to calm and happy. "_That_, is my plan, boys!"

We gazed out, and our shoulders slumped. A lift bridge was in the middle of going up. I stared open-mouthed at the hippo, who just grinned at me, and slammed down on the accelerator. "Hang on!"

"Murray, that bridge is at at least an 80 degree angle!"

"You worry too much, chum! Besides..."

We zoomed up, the three of us screaming at the top of our lungs. Time slowed down for us, it seemed, the van shot into the gap of air between the two bridge halves. We arced slightly, the van shuddered wildly as we soared in the air. But the other end of the bridge kept rising. We wouldn't make it! I thought to myself if this was how I was to die; I always thought that it would be at gunpoint, or something like that. I could see the headlines now, **Cooper Gang and other thief drown in police chase**. Other thief... would that be how I was remembered? Just another criminal?

I didn't have the time to think about that, though. The bridge stoped going up. We hit the edge of the bridge hard with the back wheels of the van, skidding down in this skidding deathtrap Murray calls a van. We spun around at least seven times I think, poping all four tires and riding on the metal rims, before we came to a stop on the other edge of the road.

"Besides, 80 is my lucky number!" the hippo said smugly.


	7. Chapter 7: Wasted Hate

**With a little* dialogue from Band of Thieves added in for good measure, the next chapter is here! I hope you enjoy it!**

***Alright, more than a little.**

**Airspace above Mid-Pacific Sea: 5:40 AM**

_Nine years. It had been nine years. Nearly a decade of pain. Of planning. Of rebirth. Of lust for vengeance. _

_You would be surprised how much hate, how much anger, could be stored within a black heart for nearly a decade. And how quickly such extreme hatred amassed. His mind still flashed to that one moment in his life; on the day that should have been his. The day that he should have claimed his father's legacy. _

"What's all this then? The magnets have been reversed!? NO!" he pushed on the movement stick with his talons, the carriage bringing him in front of his metal predecessor. It hadn't looked good; the internal combustion inhibitor had been smashed to pieces, and the central core energy displacer had been... fixed...?

"But... By Jove!" His eyes gleamed with hope. "It seems to have locked the Clockwerk Parts into place! Excellent!" He laughed happily. Finally, after so much heartache, it would be done!

Behind him strolled that voluptuously beautiful lady, Neyla. He had become fond of her, over their secret partnership. He couldn't see her grin maliciously from behind him, though; not long after, he wished he had. But before he could join the frame of the mechanical eagle, a blue figure darted in front of him.

"Sly Cooper!?" the leopard cried, "Of course this would be your doing."

The small bird furrowed his brow, and grinned smugly. "Ah, Mr. Cooper, no doubt you believed a reversal would pull the old bird apart, eh? But it seems to have had quite the opposite effect." He chortled at the confused raccoon. "I'm truly grateful. once it is fully powered up I'll join myself to its cirtuits and be born anew!"

The raccoon crossed his arms and glared. "All this... because you can't fly. You're pathetic."

_'How naive this boy is.' _"Immortality! Immortality is what I seek." Sly glared at him more, but inquisitively. "The other Klaww Gang members were much too short-sighted, they were satisfied using the Clockwerk Parts to drive their various trivial schemes." He shook his head in pity. "But not me. No. I saw them for what they really were- the keys to life eternal!" He spread out his small wings in joy, which made the raccoon cringe.

Now, Sly was a bit confused. "So... what? You had Neyla put me on the scent back in Cairo..." He had finally put the pieces together, his face frowned. "And waited till I stole the parts from the other Klaww gang members... All the while not arousing any suspicion that you were behind it all?"

The leopard girl smirked ruefully. "You make it sound easy, Cooper. I had to carry your pathetic little gang through that first set of heists." She growled softly. "I was overjoyed when Arpeggio let me toss you in jail. I could finally go after the parts myself."

Arpeggio chimed in. "Ah! But acquiring all the parts was only half the equation." He leaned in close to Sylvester. "Think, Cooper... What kept Clockwerk alive for thousands of years? What was so powerful to keep that black heart of his beating, century after century?"

He looked down, in thought. "He was fueled by his hatred, for my family."

"Splendid, that's right! Hatred! Putting his gears and wires together was childsplay, compared to accumulating that much hatred."

"You can't make people hate."

He laughed wildly. "Oh, my poor naive boy... My meticulous mind has found a way. As your hippopotamus friend will attest to, spice consumption makes you both angry, _and _susceptible to hypnosis. The Contessa, hypnotist extraordinaire, devised a way to command people using a display of flashing lights. I've created this blimp to be a massive transmitter of those precise light frequencies. The only problem I faced, was finding a suitable source... of light waves." The pair's grins became more malevolent.

Sly had all the information now. "The Northern Lights! You've been collecting Northern Light Energy so that you could hypnotize everyone underneath the blimp!"

The bird felt like he had to correct him, "Ahh, hypnotize those who'd eaten _food _covered in illegal spice! Thank goodness for Dimitri, through his Nightclub he got the whole city to consume the spice."

"You're going to Paris to unleash a hypnotic light show of hate... that's outlandishly cruel."

He shrugged. "Cruel, perhaps. But necessary to give Clockwerk his spark of immortality. Ah well." He nodded his head to Neyla. "My new body awaits me. Be a dear, Neyla, and keep him covered. Ta-Ta!"

He hadn't gotten five feet before the whip had made him crash to the floor. Neyla sighed, "Stupid Arpeggio. I double crossed the Cooper Gang, Interpol, and Carmelita... what made you think I wouldn't do the same to you?"

Arpeggio's initial shock had faded away quickly. Now he was filled with rage. His own hatred. He could only watch as the double-crossing leopard leapt into the Clockwerk head; as it closed, he could barely see her smiling at him.

The beak closed. Clockwerk's eyes glowed fiercely with red light. "Th... This is preposterous! You're my protege! NOT the next candidate for immortality! I demand you exit the Clockwerk Frame, or... OR..."

He couldn't finish. Clockwerk scowled at the small bird, left helpless in it's tipped cage. Like a fish out of water. It recoiled slightly, and stuck it's neck out fiercely, beak poised to strike with full power.

Time seemed to stop for a split-second. Arpeggio cowered in his cage, as the beak stood six inches from his own. A metallic voice filled his mind. He could only remember one other time when that voice met his ears before; when he ran away. _"Weak. You were never anything but weak, and helpless, Arpeggio. Why I gave you your intellect, I have no idea for. Wasted 'talent'.' _

**SNAP.**

_His eyes pierced the blackness of the early morning sky. They gave off the same glow, as his father had done, when influenced my Neyla. He chortled to himself. Controlled would have been the better word, of course. The old bird had probably thought of killing him off early in life. He didn't think much of reasons why he spared him, both times. _

_He cleared his mind. His red eyes focussed like a hawk's out into the further waters. barely, he could see a towering figure in the distance; The Statue of Liberty. It would not be long now. Not long at all..._


	8. Chapter 8: Long Car Rides

**... Man, has it been a month already? Gah... Anyway. Finally, and hopefully for a while, the story goes on! **

"...Did I just see that right?" The lioness's jaw was still dropped, in contrast to the confident glare on Inspector Fox's face. but there was something else in that glare, some fire burning in those eyes; Anger? Surprise? Or maybe she finally realized how crazy Murray could be at the wheel? Either way, she'd known Sly and his gang well enough for about the past decade that hardly anything shocked her about them anymore. Startled, maybe. But Shock? Nah. "Yup," She said, staring out into the dimming light, just barely seeing the van drive out of sight.

"But... That..." Inspector Leonne looked like she was about to go insane, "That shouldn't even be _possible! _What car has _rockets on them_ anyway?!" Carmelita just stood there, staring into the sunset thoughtfully. Sasha threw her arms down in disbelief. She whipped out a radio from her belt, and switched it on with more than a little bit of fury. "_Sergeant!" _

"Y-Yes, Sir?" Sergeant Macrenny's timid but low voice came out on the speaker. The beagle was a good agent of Interpol, no doubt. And he certainly liked the Inspector, as did most of the agents in her squad. But have you ever heard that old saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'? Well, Hell hath nothing on an angry Inspector Leonne. A reason why, on most assignments he was anticipating failure, he tried to avoid the Inspector. And why he was quaking in his boots right now.

She furrowed her brow. "Mind telling me who the idiot that didn't put troops on the _other side of the bridge _was?" She'd calmed down slightly, trying to take in deep breaths. Since childhood, she'd had a habit of overreacting about things, but Sasha thought she was just angry enough, given the situation. How long had she been trying to catch that criminal, Koupre? It felt like years already, and it was only a couple of months!

The other end of the radio was silent. "Sergeant..." She said firmly.

"Err... you are, Sir?" Macrenny spoke lightly with those words, he was on thin ice.

Her face went white. She blinked. "... Get a chopper ready, Macrenny." The radio flicked off with a sharp click before he could sign off. Sasha stormed off, finally getting control of her angry emotions from showing. Of course on the inside, she was still fuming. As she stormed off, Carmelita noticed how they were alike. Sort of startling, when she started to think about it. Carmelita walked off after her, watching Sasha get into her police car, and zoom off, siren blaring after her.

"I take it we're not going the Evel Knievel route, then?" She said under her breath.

The fox shut the door sharply, but quietly. Part of her squad was still preparing for the chase they'd have after the Cooper Gang. She used this time to think, like she always did when those slowpokes didn't get their butts in gear.

...

She didn't know what to feel. Angry, like she normally did when Cooper got away (for what felt like the gazillionth time)...or was she sad? No, that's impossible. She was Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox, one of the best Inspectors there was! Good Inspectors didn't get sad about their jobs; Barkley taught us that.

...Of course, there had been something different between them. Every time she got the edge on Sly, and they chased, there was some banter between them; a welcome thing flying between them rather than the shock pistol bullets. _'Sort of a...stress reliever, so we don't try to kill each other.' _

She laughed at the thought. _'Who am I kidding? It's so I don't kill _him._' _Carmelita rested her elbows on the handles of the steering wheel thoughtfully.

But lately, they'd been... silent. Even from what she knew was Sly's attempts to make conversation, to mend the rift between them, she hadn't said a word except the occasional 'FREEZE, COOPER!'. Actually, the last time they talked when she wasn't completely mad at him was Valentine's Day. Well, technically independence day, but he was actually sweet on Valentine's day. He even reminded her of when they were together. Did she miss that? Did she miss the lie? And why was she holding it to him so much, that he did lie to her?

Maybe it was her attempt to stay angry at him, maybe she was finally going nuts because of him, she didn't know. _'I mean, he DID do something pretty bad, pretending he had anmesia just to get close to me... just to get close to me...' _

She sighed heavily. Why was this always so confusing? Why was Sly such a complex person? She'd read his file dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, she knew him inside and out... but he still found a way to surprise her. Every time. Even when Carmelita thought she'd finally gotten him, finally wiped that smug smile off of his face, he did one of his classic pranks and pulled the rug out from under her.

Was that what she missed? That creativity, that little spark that made her stay so persistent to catch him, had that kept her from throwing in the towel and forgetting about him? Was that love? Did she love him? Could she love him? She was a cop, he was a crook, she was black and white about morals, and he was... somewhere in between.

"Err... You gonna start the car yet, boss?"

She yelped slightly, shifting her elbow, and landing right on the horn. All three of the agents inside jumped, including her. "Would you stop that, Winthrop?! When did you two get in here, anyway?"

The two agents in the car, Winthrop and Lieutenant Gronk (she didn't even want to know how he got into the passenger seat), shrugged indifferently. "We were in here when you came in; you looked like you needed to think, so we let you. Untill Winthrop, here..." He glared at the purple otter, "decided we needed to go. To tell the truth, I agree with him."

Winthrop sighed with relief.

"Oh, right! Right. The, uh... yeah, we'll want to get on with the chase, won't we?"

Gronk chuckled a bit. "It may be a wise decision, yes."

"Right." She turned the key, and stomped on the gas to catch up with the rest of the patrol. Carmelita felt even more embarrassed because she was the last in the troop, something that she hated back at training.

"Are you alright, Inspector?"

Gronk, normally a quiet soul, was starting to be annoying to her with all the chatting. "Fine, I'm just fine," She said curtly.

"...You sure?"

"Winthrop!" The two of them shouted in unison.

The otter slumped back in his seat. Five minutes later, he was about to start talking again, but the Lieutenant put a hand on his holstered shock pistol. He kept his mouth shut for the entire drive.


	9. Chapter 9: The Jailhouse Rock

How Murray could have even driven on that road without any tires, I don't even want to know. But he did! And the entire way, we were still clinging for dear life. Everything was moving so fast past us, buildings, cars, trees. I felt bad for Sly and Bentley; if driving like this was business as usual for me, I'd never have a full stomach.

Then I saw... something. I can't exactly remember. Around this time is when my memory starts to get hazy. It was moving just as fast as we were on the road, maybe even faster. It was huge, and it was loud. So were the sirens behind us. Wait... was it... could that have been a chopper? No, that's impossible. Interpol couldn't possibly get a helicopter up and running so quickly, right? It's impossible!

Right?

Then there was shouting. A lot of shouting, outside the van and in. Then... were those gunshots? From a helicopter? Murray took a turn. Sly climbed into the passenger seat, manning some set of controls in the passenger-side dashboard. I heard some crashes behind us, I think. Maybe that switch was for an oil slick?

Then it happened. Murray came up to a short turn, he couldn't take it fast enough. We tried bailing... but we couldn't. Another car came through, we swerved out of control! Murray was glad that the other driver got out of the way before we hit him.

Then we flipped.

And then... I forget.

* * *

I heard somebody shouting. I couldn't tell a word they said, though, but they were loud. Why didn't people let others try to sleep once in a while?

"Mrph... 5 more minutes..."

"You asked that 10 hours ago, pal."

...Did I hear him right?

"Say what?" I mumbled.

"You heard me, 5 hours. You've been asleep, literally, all day."

...Well THAT's a heck of a wake-up call. I pushed myself off of whatever I was sleeping on, a cot made out of metal and some sort of cloth, and regretted it right after it. It felt like the _Blitzkrieg Teil 2 _in my noggin, with my sinuses playing the part of Czechoslovakia.

With a loud FLOP, the idea of sleep was getting better and better. But then, Sly ran to help me back up.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not talking to myself for another 24 hours, the other inmates think I'm crazy enough. Come on, seeping beauty," he said as he shoved me upright, "Time to rise and shine."

"...Fine." I was still half-asleep, but I could at least understand him. Then, like lightning, it came back to me. The turn. The flipping over. The explosions. My face was still asleep though, so I probably looked like a sleep-deprived idiot.

"All of it happened, didn't it?" I asked after a long time realizing what happened in the last day.

He nodded grimly. "Yep."

"Are Bentley and Murray okay?"

"Don't worry," He said with a laugh, "They're fine. You kinda got hurt the most, out of all of us."

I tried to pull an arm up to get rid of my headache, and yelped when it twinged with pain. Sly looked apathetic. "Guess those pain medications wore off quicker than they thought."

I was still groggy. "Pain medications?"

"It was the only way you didn't shout out when you moved. Don't worry too much, though. They're supposedly minor fractures, should heal up in a month or so. And that concussion of yours... that should be gone in a little while."

"Believe me, I'm not worried about a concussion right now. I'm guessing we're in prison?"

"Yep."

"_Interpol _Prison?"

"Give the man a prize!" he said sarcastically, but with a genuine smile. Then I thought of something...

"Wait, where ARE Bentley and Murray?"

Without a word, he pointed to the cell door. With effort, I turned to that direction, and saw the turtle and hippo. Murray was asleep, but it looked like the turtle was listening in on every word. He had one elbow on his wheelchair arm rest (which was completely void of anything that would have been useful for us to get out of here), and kept staring down at the floor.

"...No offense, Bentley, but that's extremely creepy."

"Hunh?" His head bobbed up, and he finally blinked. "Sorry, sorry. Must have zoned out for a second. What were we talking about?"

Sly leaned by my ear, "He does that when he's thinking. Got any plans yet, Bent?" He said in a louder voice.

Bentley sighed. "I've run through most of our escape plots that we've been... _lucky _enough to have a chance to use. I've calculated all our skills; your nimbleness, my intellect, and Murray's muscle. Don't think I left you out, but you're... well, you can't do much right now."

I nodded in agreement. "So what's the verdict?"

"With all my calculations... how should I say this-"

"Bentley, just come out and say it. Please." Sly knew the news wouldn't be good, but I could see he wanted an answer.

"...We're royally screwed."

* * *

**YES! An update! Of all the things I'm writing, this is my favorite so far (even if it might not look it). It might not seem like much now, but I really hope for it to become great after a while.**

**Oh, and one more thing... if this seems to be a little different from how I normally write, I'm a little sleep deprived. But don't worry! I'm a night-owl. And BESIDES; People who write at 1 in the morning are ALWAYS sane! Sure, they can't get as much barbecues as another hippopotamaus...but house always find their weasels way around the... mulberry bush...*Head hits keyboard* ZZZZzzzzzzz... **

**But in all seriousness, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review if you can. More reviews=more, and quicker, updates! Enjoy your evening, morning, or afternoon (whenever you're reading this) everybody! **


	10. Chapter 10: Interrogation

**U.S.N.C.B. (United States National Central Bureau).****  
****Also known as the Official U.S. Headquarters of the International Criminal Police Organization. Also known as INTERPOL.**

* * *

**_Koupre_**

The lioness glowered at the raccoon behind the one-way mirror. A broken arm, a bandage wraped around his head, and a couple more unnamed injuries. He'd been given pain medication for the injuries, but only enough to keep him sleeping. They needed him conscious for this interrogation. For the most part, he didn't seem too agitated. Only the occasional wince of pain, or sigh, showed some worry about where he was now.

_Better late than never to have regrets. _

Something that unsettled her was that, somehow, the raccoon's eyes kept following her as she moved around the 'observation deck'. She knew that this was a one-way mirror, so it had to be a coincidence. Or some sort of joke. She glanced over to the agent on her right. "Is the room prepared?"

"Yes, Inspector. Recorder is in place, audio and video."

"Is he restrained?"

The tiger paused before answering, and adjusted his sunglasses. "Leg shackled, yes. We didn't find much reason to bind his arms, with the, eh, broken arm and all."

She nodded. Pulling the file closer to her side, she came into the room. The metal door groaned as it swiveled on its hinged, and slammed. Sasha kept eye contact with the raccoon as she flopped down the file onto the metallic table. His file, to be precise.

"…I see you got into my apartment."

"You sound surprised. The place wasn't exactly invisible, Koupre."

He smirked. "Then why'd it take you six months to find?"

She ignored the question. "Before you say anything more, know that this conversation is being recorded. If the need does arise, this may be used as evidence in a court of law…"

_Good grief, I hate this police speech. _Gregory's eyes wandered as she kept droning on about 'Rights in court' and 'Multiple misdemeanors'… _Can't a speech at least be _interesting_, for once? Yeesh… Forget the prison time; THIS is enough of a punishment… _

"Do you agree to these terms as they've been laid out to you?"

"W-What? Oh, sorry. I kind of zoned out there for a second." He said innocently.

A growl formed in her throat. It was more of an irritated growl than an angry one. She kept her composure though, and paged through the papers and pictures of his file. She pulled out four packets of papers from the dozens of crime descriptions, and slid them to his side of the table.

"You've been very busy, Gregory. I don't need to remind you how much you've done in the past year; Grand Larceny, Grand Theft Auto, and Evasion of Police Forces, just to name a few…"

"…_Fascinating." _Gregory said sarcastically. "Wait, actually, before you go on, mind if I ask you something?"

"Depends." She said after a pause.

"Well, first, can this go off the record?"

…She blinked. She dug into her jacket pocket, fishing out a remote control, and pushed the _Stop_ button on the audio controls. She rested her chin in her hands. "I'm listening." She could imagine the agent behind the mirror was quizzical.

"Do you really… _seriously_… believe this junk? Are you so Black and White that you think stealing from criminals, that trying to give them a taste of their own medicine… is something I should be locked up for? You know as well as I do, those 'Victims' of theft on those sheets are mobsters, kidnappers, and fraudulent tycoons. Do you honestly think that giving them a little humility is something wrong?"

Sasha nonchalantly pushed the button again, and the audio was turned back on.

"… That answers _that _question."

* * *

**_Cooper_**

The awkward silence between them was… well… awkward. Carmelita kept paging through Sly's file (more like a file cabinet, it had so many papers), but it didn't hide the uncomfortable glint in her eyes. Sly twiddled his thumbs, waiting for her to volley some questions across the table, but she kept quiet.

He glanced up at the fox, seeing her eyes dart back to the papers. Both of them blushed ever so slightly. The raccoon didn't know what to say, especially since they'd been quiet already for a couple minutes…

"Wow. This place is a LOT different than the one in Lyon."

She glanced over her reading glasses. "Actually, the cells are the only different thing. It's kind of sad; the break room's got the same moldy powdered doughnuts."

"You mean the ones that taste like dirt?"

"That's the one!"

They shared a few laughs.

"… Well. You already know the 'terms as they've been laid out to you' speech, don't you?"

"Of course! I memorized it."

"Good. Then I won't say it. Do you accept the terms?"

"No."

She sighed, and put the glasses in her pocket. She rolled her shoulders, and went back into a 'cop mode'. "Mr. Cooper, you're only going to make this harder for yourself if you don't accept them."

"Carmelita, you know those terms better than I do. If I accept them, Bentley and Murray'll be incriminated even more than they already are, for things they never even had a hand in. I'm not going to do that to them. Even that Gregory person; he doesn't deserve to be charged with my actions. He's got his own crimes to atone to."

He paused. "Carm, I'm-"

"Inspector Fox. Not Carmelita, not Carm, Inspector Fox."

Sly's shoulders slumped. He tried to find some source of sympathy in her eyes, but they were blank. He remembered this kind of look. The 'Listen to me, or something really bad's going to happen' look.

He sighed. "Sorry, Inspector Fox."

* * *

**_Koupre_**

Sasha had to restrain herself to not explode. Gregory was more annoying in captivity than out! And he knew it too; why else would he keep avoiding questions, but to be difficult?

"…I think we're done here." She finally said, after calming down a bit.

"You know Sasha… you're actually quite beautiful when you're angry."

The lioness scoffed as she swooped up the papers on the table, and started her way out. "What, the moral approach didn't work, so you're trying flattery?"

"No, no; I'm serious! The rage really brings out the colors of your eyes."

She rolled her eyes, and ignored him again. "Just wait and see how that stuff works in prison. Heads up; it doesn't."

"See you around, Koupre." She started to close the door. "Or not." Sasha added, before the door slammed.

_…Sometimes I REALLY dislike her. _He thought to himself.

**Not a lot happening in this chapter. Sorry! There should be more happening next chapter… just maybe not to our jailbirds… _*Coughhinttonextchaptercough*  
_****Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! If you've got a comment to the story, leave it in a review! **


	11. Chapter 11: We Interrupt this broadcast

The lioness groaned. That raccoon, Koupre, was even more of a nuisance _in _jail than _out! _She'd had to file dozens of past reports on the thief, criminal bios, records of stolen artifacts and valuables... and, because they were on a deadline to process him, she'd have to do it _all _before she left for New York again, in three days! Well, she didn't _have _to... but she was tired of D.C. Even with the close proximity of the two areas, she didn't want to take another trip to this city. She liked the history and all, but you could only hear about 'the grandeur of D.C.' so many times before it got old. That happened enough, back when she was climbing up in the ranks of Interpol, still a trainee.

She yawned loudly, stretching in the swivel chair that had been provided for her, and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Sasha grabbed for her coffee mug, prepared to take another swig of the caffeinated drink to keep her coherent. Sighing when a few drops dribbled out of it, she plopped it back on the desk. She glanced down at her wrist: **12:44**.

_I'd better get overtime for this... _

She gladly swiveled away from her desk, a ragged old thing that looked like it was dragged out of the 1800's (and not in the good way), and tried to stretch her stiff legs. Of course, there wasn't much room for her to do that in the cramped office.

With a fear of tight spaces that bordered on clinical definition, she always had a troubling time putting it out of her mind. Most times, she just tried to think about something else, which failed miserably. Except for this time, of course! Too bad for her, though, since it got her to thinking about _another _of her personal nightmares: How similar she was to that _bruha_, as she'd say, Carmelita Fox. There'd been so many comments about that back at NYC, she labled some days as Hea'day'ches. The "Uncatchable Criminal" with morals made to justify his thefts, and the Beautiful (she didn't mind comments like that) Inspector that always got _this _close to catching him. Almost on purpose, it seemed sometimes.

"Hrmph." Sasha mumbled. "Didn't take a huge giant-bird-leopard thing to get Koupre locked up. Shows how good of a cop _she _is."

She snatched up an old TV remote from a green lounge chair (how movers would have been able to get it through the thin door was a mystery), and trid to turn the thing on. After repeated slamming of the buttons, she finally gave up. _Stupid faulty wiring..._

"Ugh." she groaned. It was good that she hadn't been given a desk outside this office; she would have exploded a lot faster. _If I get back and see Macrenny slacking off again..._

* * *

**Meanwhile... **

Back in New York, the Sergeant was doing anything but slacking off. With their quintessential leader gone, their entire squadron had been in their very own chaos. And, somehow, it seemed like the whole of New York knew that; since that whole fiasco with the Cooper Gang's van crash, every pickpocket and purloiner came out. Sort of like a full moon, but for crooks.

Not unlike the mounds of paperwork Sasha had, he was faced with a veritable Mount Everest of papers. All of which had to be alphabetized, given a _handwritten _signature, and to be mailed out at the end of the month to DC. Fun, huh?

The beagle sighed as he worked through another typical case. Stereotypical, in fact. A Smuggling operation in New York, the NYPD get wind of the case, and they slap it right on Interpol's shoulders. Normally it wouldn't work this way, but the Interpol squadron stationed here didn't exactly get along with the NYPD on what you'd call 'Friendly Terms'.

"Carlson!" he barked. "Where's that coffee I asked for?"

Another dog, a small Labrador, stumbled in his office with a Caribou Coffee cup. "S-Sorry, sir." he said with a nervous laugh. "Big line at the shop."

Another sigh left him. "'s alright, Jack. I'm a bit wound up, I apologize."

The Labrador had pity in his eyes. He could see how sleep deprived his superior was, with the bags under his eyes and the unshaven stubble around his muzzle. "Don't you think you should call it a night, sir? Most of the other officers have already. Just my opinion, of course, it's just that..."

With a laugh at his attempt to be commending, he pushed away from the desk. "As usual, you're right. I'll be out in a minute. Oh, but before you go," He said after noticing the remote control beside the television, "could you grab the remote for me?"

"Sure," he said, snatching it up. Suddenly the television flicked on. A static picture came on the monitor.

Carlson had a sideways look on his face. "What's the matter? Don't like the show?" the sergeant asked.

"No, it's just... I didn't turn this on."

Quickly, a black emblem came on-screen: A calligraphic A, set behind a... a black bird claw. All the color in Macrenny's face melted away.

_"HELLO, New York City!" _a warbling voice said once the emblem faded into darkness. The screen wasn't black, but the picture from the camera was from a terribly dim-lighted area. Two shadows could be seen, one that looked like a massive, broad-shouldered person, the other a small creature in some sort of cage.

_"Oh, and hello to the rest of America too, I suppose. I forgot for a moment how far this broadcasts. " _he said with a malicious, warbling laugh.

_"Anyhoo. I'm sure you're all wondering why your Full House and Shark Week re-runs have been so _rudely _interrupted. Don't worry, you'll see what mess Uncle Jesse's gotten himself into soon enough. In the meantime, though... allow me to filibuster for a moment, if you will." _

_"My name... is Arpeggio."_ The lights in the scene turned on with an electronic whir. Most of the viewers would have wished to be kept in the dark, though: the hideous amalgamation of metal implanted to the small parrot's body was unnerving, to say it kindly. He was attached to wires through various parts of his wings and skull, which could be seen in his dramatic movements.

_"To those of you know may know of me, I congratulate you. And to those who are seeing my face for the first time, I envy you. It is a privilege, I am sure. To see the face of a King for the first time must be purely overwhelming... But, believe it or not, I," _he continued to rant, _"King among Kings... was once discarded among civilization. Betrayed by you, treated as trash. By _all of you. _You mocked my diminutive size, casting me astray like an unwanted fly in a picnic. An insect." _

He laughed to himself. _"You all... you do not know what such can do to you. What rage that can amass within your soul. What hate." _The parrot's beak curved into a disturbing smile. _"Hate is a powerful weapon, New York. Many of you know its power, in some form or bland shade. The streets themselves, they are a hub of racing and raging emotions that clash every day, every minute of your lives. This fact leads me to my point." _

A pair of bellows-like pumps hissed in the background. _"To lesser beings such as yourselves, hate is merely described as anger. As cold, harsh, unrelenting anger toward a person or thing. Well, you are right. But it is so much more. It can be bent. Or, more accurately, those who _experience _it can be bent. And, of course, I mean YOU, citizens." _

"...This isn't possible..." Macrenny uttered, in shock. He'd remembered tell of something like this happening, in Paris... it was happening. He was back.

_"Now that I've finally gotten your attention, allow me to explain. Within the next 24 hours, every last one of you will become fueled with hate. No exceptions, just that. Pure, unrelenting, hate. I will MAKE. You hate."_ He said calmly.

_"Find this impossible? Then, by all means, disregard this message completely. But know that this operation is merely a test. An example of what power I possess."_

The beagle smashed the power button furiously, but the parrot's monologue wouldn't cease.

_"Oh... And do you want to know the best part?" _he said in a happy, and scary, tone. _"There's nothing you can do to stop me. Delightful thought... isn't it?" _

The parrot grinned one last time. The Klaww Emblem flashed again, and the screen went back to black.

Immediately, Macrenny slammed down on the phone. Punching in a number, the dial tone came to his ears. "Carlson, emergency briefing. NOW."

Without a word, the agent rushed out of the office. Almost as immediately, phones started to ring in the office, one after another. All of them were obviously scared citizens, who'd just seen that broadcast.

Finally, a voice came on the other end. "Hello, DC Interpol?...I DON'T CARE what you're really called!" He shouted into the reciever. "This is Sergeant Macrenny, New York. Get Inspector Lionne on the line, NOW!"

**First of all, thank you to all the people out there that keep reading this. I'm still relatively new to the whole society (and still rather crappy in updating), and I'm still a bit inexperienced in my writing abilities, but you all give me amazing support to keep on writing. You, guests or member, are making it so easy to have fun writing this. You're kind with your reviews, you enjoy the story, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. **

**Second of all... this chapter was different than I originally planned. It's been on the drawing board for a couple weeks, and got stuffed behind it for a couple more, so it has some clashing ideas from different points in inspiration. If you liked it, and like how the story's going, then tell me in a review! And if you see a mistake, tell me in a review too. I'm writing this for YOU guys, remember. I want it to be the best it can be.**

**Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter! And thanks for reading! :)**


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